


Concentration

by ArtlessComedic



Series: supersona shit yall [1]
Category: Adventures of Musicboi and Captain Spook, Original Work
Genre: Trapped In Elevator, aka the best trope ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtlessComedic/pseuds/ArtlessComedic
Summary: Possibly the longest and most annoying conversation Spite has ever had with his arch rivalSo far





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nzprincesskenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nzprincesskenny/gifts).



“This is all your fault and I hate you for it.” Spite scowled, rapidly jabbing his finger against the **Door Open** button of the elevator. Not that it would have done much good if it’d worked, as the elevator was stopped right between floors three and four, and opening the doors would reveal nothing but the sheer wall of the elevator shaft. He pulled his hood down over his face in frustration, stomping his feet. “God _fuck!”_ He yelled. “Why is it always me?!” 

“Nah man, relax, it’s okay.” Musicboi grinned at him, patting his shoulder with a gloved hand. “It’s just a lil jam. I bet Captain Spook is already on her way to get us out of here.” 

“Oh great, Miss Sarcasm, to the rescue. I’m sure she’ll have a wonderful commentary on our mental capacity waiting for us when we get out.” Spite sneered, taking a step back from Musicboi and adjusting his mask. _“If_ we get out.” 

“We will. Let’s just be patient. How about some tunes?” Musicboi, ever the optimist, took a seat on the thinly carpeted floor and leaned back comfortably against the wall. “Do you like jazz?” He grinned. 

Spite narrowed his eyes. “No.” 

“No, dude, it’s a joke. You know? Like that movie with Jerry Seinfeld and John Goodman?” Musicboi adjusted in his seat, tugging the front of his cape forward so it wasn’t choking him. 

Spite only stared, head slightly tilted to one side. “N...no.” 

Musicboi’s eyebrows rose and he whistled low. “Dang. Well fuck me, huh? It’s whatever. Sit down, we’ll just chat or something while we wait.”

Spite clenched his hands into fists, silent for a moment, before dropping into a cross-legged sitting position, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine.” He grumbled. 

“Oh, I have an idea! Let’s play concentration!” 

The hero in blue scooted forward until his knees were touching Spite’s, and he held up two hands. “We used to play this in school, and we had like, actual tournaments and stuff! It was so cool.” 

Spite pushed a lock of red hair out of his face and sighed, holding up his hands. “A game called 'concentration’ might be a bit difficult for you, don’t you think?” 

“Don’t be rude. Now! Do you want to pick the category, or should I?” 

Spite frowned, unwilling to admit he wasn’t even sure how the game worked, and shook his head. “No, this was your idea, you do it.” 

“Fine by me!” Musicboi cleared his throat and began to clap, and it took only a moment for Spite to catch onto the rhythm. 

_“This is a game-”_ clap, clap, _“of concentration.”_

_“No repeats - or hesitation.”_

Spite was thankful the instructions came with the song. 

_“I’ll go first, you'll go last, here's our task: desserts!”_

“Pumpkin pie!” 

Spite blinked. Was this it? Easy enough. “Chocolate cake?” 

“Oh, yum!” Musicboi nodded. “Carrot cake!” 

“Veggies don't belong in desserts. Banana bread.” 

“I'm a genius cook- apple turnover- I can make any vegetable delicious!” 

“Empanadas. I don't believe you.” 

“You should! Upside-down cake!” 

“Fried ice cream.” 

“Strawberry tarts - I make good empanadas too!” 

“No you don't. Scones.” 

“You wouldn’t know, you've never had them. Apple pie!” 

“Chocolate mousse. I've had the best empanadas in town, and they're sure as fuck not yours.” Spite stuck his tongue out, pulling his hands away and dropping them into his lap. 

“Aw man, you messed up the rhythm.” Musicboi pursed his lips into a pout, but it barely lasted three seconds before he was smiling again. “Good game, though!” He put his hands down and shrugged. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Spite looked away. Things were silent for a moment, before he opened his mouth to speak again. Before any words could escape, there was a loud _bang!-_ and both boys looked up to see the hatch on the ceiling swinging open, with a grinning superhero looking down at them. 

“Captain Spook!” Musicboi jumped to his feet, just as Spite frowned and mumbled, “Has that always been there?” 

Captain Spook reached a hand down and Musicboi took it, grateful for the help climning out of the elevator. “I'm glad you're both still alive.” She said, patting her friend on the back. “Let's get back to the lobby.” 

“Oh, one sec- hey Spite!” He called, turning back to the hatch just in time to see Spite pulling himself up. “Oh, you got it! Cool.” 

“Yeah.” Spite brushed himself off, making a bit of a production out of adjusting his hood. “Now, Captain Spook, Muse. It's been fun, kind of, not really, but I should be going. Later nerds.” 

He turned and grabbed a cable and quickly began to climb, reaching the open doors above them fairly easily and disappearing beyond them. 

“Do you think he knows he always calls you by nicknames?” Captain Spook asked.

“Not at all.” 

**Author's Note:**

> lmfao what the fuck  
> i hope u liked this
> 
> Tumblrs?
> 
> Musicboi - nzprincesskenny  
> Captain Spook - stuck-in-the-ghost-zone  
> Spite - artlesscomedic


End file.
